Concerning Life in the Mirkwood Castle
by Amaris Ethne
Summary: What the title says. Legolas growing up in the castle. Funness and cuteness. Please R
1. Concerning Friendships with Dust Bunnies

Concerning Life in the Mirkwood Castle  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas or any other characters of The Lord of the Rings that I decide to put in this story. I'm just using them for my own twisted pleasure. I *do* own the dust bunnies: Glithiel, Sebrimir, Elrildur, Rioclya, and Amaran, the spidies the nursemaid Amyndra and Hilmar.  
  
Ip Pri: Concerning the Friendship of Dust Bunnies  
  
"Legolas!" the name thundered through the stone castle, rattling the windows and shaking the floors. The little Elf who belonged to the name cowered under his huge poster bed; kept company by the spiders and dust bunnies that inhabited the hiding place. *If Ada knew it was so dirty under here he would be furious! * The young Elf thought as he heard his name reverberate from the floor and the walls again. The dust bunnies, all of which were now named by their guest, hopped and scattered at the sound. *He is all ready furious. * The little blond Elf realised and scooted farther under his bed to join the other dust bunnies. From his hiding place he saw the door to his chamber open. Fear gripped his heart until he saw the soft blue skirt hem and the flat white slippers that were worn by the intruder. The feet shuffled across the room to open the doors of the bureau, then to the door leading to the water closet. Finding nothing unusual behind either set of doors, the feet shuffled back to the middle of the room where they remained. Above the feet, unseen by the little renegade was a blond head, long hair in a single braid that ran the length of her back and eyes the colour of the clear sky which searched the room for evidence of the runaway child. Her pointed ears heard a slight sound coming from the bed. Feet quickly went to the end of the bed that was four times bigger than its occupant would ever require. The dark green and blue quilt laid over it perfectly with naught a wrinkle in it. Blue eyes scanned up the sheer curtains to the canopy. The side curtains were tied back near the head of the bed tightly and were undisturbed. The canopy was as it had been that morning when she had last seen it. The sound came again. In his sanctuary the Elf boy scooted back toward the head of the bed, away from the feet. Suddenly, the boy was not looking at the familiar pair of white work slippers but at a pair of cerulean blue eyes.  
  
"There you are, your highness." The voice was soft and motherly though the owner had never had children of her own. The little boy scooted back more, until his back hit against the wall. The face at the end of his bed smiled.  
  
"Come, now, your highness. Your father is looking for you." Without a reply the boy pulled his knees to his chest. The woman sighed and shook her head.  
  
"If your father saw you cowering under a bed..." she left the thought unfinished but her audience didn't require her to.  
  
"Please, your highness, come out from there. The longer you keep your father waiting the greater his wrath will become." The boy did not move. He was perfectly happy and content to spend the rest of eternity under the bed with his newfound friends. Again the sound of his name shook his home.  
  
"Young highness, I am begging you. Please remove yourself from under your bed. I promise you; if you do I will have Cook make you that cake you like so much. A large one, just for you. You do not have to tell anyone you have it. Just please come out and answer your father's call." Her voice was urgent, her eyes wide and pleading. A little sigh answered her and the scotching sound resumed. The maid's pleading and bribery was rewarded with the appearance of a little blond head.  
  
"You promise? No one will tell Ada about the cake?" The nursemaid sighed in relief and smiled at him.  
  
"By the Valar I promise. You shall have your cake and only you, the cook and I will know of it. Now come along before your father sends Hilmar to find you." At the mention of his father's personal guard the little boy's eyes grew wide. He scurried out of his hiding place; his dark green tunic covered in dust and his blond hair ratted.  
  
"Oh, my. Come with me, then. We must get you cleaned up. I shall have to make the bed and clean under there tomorrow during your morning ride."  
  
"No!" the boy exclaimed, his blue eyes as large as teacups. His maid was taken aback.  
  
"Why ever not? You know your father insists on his castle being spotless. He would be most upset at the state of your chosen hiding place."  
  
"He would be furious. But my friends are under there. Where would they go?"  
  
"Friends?" The little blond head bobbed.  
  
"The dust bunnies and the spidies. They are all living under there. And they all have names too. There is Glithiel and Sebrimir and Elrildur and Rioclya and Amaran and..."  
  
"Enough. We shall find a more suitable place for Glithiel and Riosh-"  
  
"Rioclya." The boy corrected.  
  
"Rioclya and the others to live tomorrow. But they cannot continue to...live...under your bed. Now hurry along, your father has been kept waiting long enough." The maid quickly finished re-braiding her young keep's hair and shooed him from his chambers. The little boy complied, running through the corridor toward his fathers throne room. Amyndra shook her head as she watched the young elf.  
  
"Friends? Dust bunnies? Oh dear me." 


	2. Concerning Concern

Ip Dru: Concerning Concern  
  
The boy slid to a stop in the well-waxed and slippery hallway. He straightened his clothing and slowly and calmly walked toward the entrance to his father's throne room. At the door the Delaril, the court announcer halted him.  
  
"Delaril, my father is expecting me," he explained with a sigh. Whenever he wanted to see his father he had to go through Delaril. An Elf that he could not stand.  
  
"Yes, Legolas, he is." The older Elf said in a condescending tone. The boy's ears burned.  
  
"It is *Prince* Legolas to you, Delaril." He said between clenched teeth. Just because the Elf was the court bugler did not make him above King Thranduil's son. No matter what. The bugler looked down upon the short elf with a smirk.   
  
"Very well, *Prince Legoals*," he over emphasised the title, " I shall announce you."  
  
"That will not be necessary. Just open the door."  
  
"*Someone* needed to be taking a nap in his bed instead of hiding under it, I see." The boy stopped and spun on the older Elf.  
  
"*That*, Delaril, is none of your concern. Your concern is announcing the presence of those above you who wish to see my father. Your concern is serving those who are above you, which is everyone who has ever set foot in this castle. Even the stable boy is more important than you are. And it would be in your best interest if your concern remained at this door. Perhaps you would prosper even more if you focused some of that concentration upon learning and remembering to use the proper ways to address those that are higher than yourself." The prince turned on his heel and swung open the doors to his fathers throne room himself, not waiting for the glorified doorman's answer. The young boy took a great satisfaction at the thought that just then he had sounded intimidating and just like his father. The boy's smile faded, however, when he saw his role model.  
  
A/N: Hehehe...this thing is fun to write. Please review. Any and all flames will be used to burn Delaril...Hey, there's an idea for the next chapter...nah, never mind. The next chapter should be up tomorrow. Or the next day. Hopefully. Unless I decide not to, just because I'm like that...okay, I'm gonna lay off the caffeine now!  
  
Disclaimer: (I'm adding to it w/every chapter)  
  
I do not own Legolas or Thranduil or any other characters of The Lord of the Rings that I decide to put in this story. I'm just using them for my own twisted pleasure. I *do* own the dust bunnies: Glithiel, Sebrimir, Elrildur, Rioclya, and Amaran, the spidies, the nursemaid Amyndra, and Hilmar. I also am now the proud new owner of Delaril and that stable boy, if I ever decide to give him a name. 


	3. Concerning Arrows in Horses' Haunches

Ip Init: Concerning Arrows in Horses Haunches  
  
"Legolas." The King's voice was deep and menacing. The heart of the boy to whom he was speaking ached to be back among his dust bunny friends.   
  
"You called, father?"   
  
"How did your archery lesson today go, my son?" The king asked calmly. Legolas stared at the capricious tile floor for a moment.  
  
"Fine, father."   
  
"Fine? Is that all?" Legolas continued to stare at the floor.   
  
"You see, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, to *me* fine does not mean that one has shot one of the royal horses." Legolas cringed.   
  
"I didn't hurt it, father."   
  
"I am unclear as to where your arrow penetrated the horse."  
  
"In its bum."  
  
"In its what?"  
  
"Its bum, your highness. I shot your favourite horse in the bum with an arrow." Legolas repeated, louder, raising his gaze to meet his fathers. The King's face flashed with anger, then subsided as he began to chuckle.  
  
"Oh, Legolas. Come here," the little boy complied and crawled upon his fathers lap, "you shot it in its *haunches. * They're called haunches on a horse. My dear boy." The king laughed and tousled his son's hair. The little boy smiled up at his father.  
  
"We shall relocate your shooting range. Perhaps to the other side of the gardens, far away from any horses, how does that sound?"  
  
"Wonderful, Ada."  
  
"Very well then. Run along. There's no use punishing you for your dreadful aim." Legolas wasted no time jumping off his father's lap and running out of the throne room. One never knew when or if the King of Mirkwood would change his mind.   
  
A/N...hmmm...what should happen *now*??? Perhaps little Leggy should go help them fix the horse :p I don't know. I'll go get another Mt. Dew and think on it for a while. These chapters are short, and don't take long to write so if a Muse (preferably one with blond hair, blue eyes, pointed ears and a bow) decides to come visit me I'll probably have the next chappy up later today. Or tomorrow. Depends on how *helpful* that muse is!!  
  
Disclaimer:   
  
~ I do not own Legolas or Thranduil or any other characters of The Lord of the Rings that I decide to put in this story. I'm just using them for my own twisted pleasure.  
  
I *do* own the dust bunnies: Glithiel, Sebrimir, Elrildur, Rioclya, and Amaran, the spidies, the nursemaid Amyndra, and Hilmar.   
  
~ I also am the owner of Delaril and that stable boy, if I ever decide to give him a name.   
  
~ And I have just added that poor little horse who still has an arrow stuck in his bum to my list of assets that shall be passed on to whoever the bloody wants them after I'm gone. Also the poor, poor imbecile who's job it was to teach our young Legolas how to shoot! Though neither of them have names just now. 


	4. Concerning Clods of Dust and Spidies Hom...

Ip So: Concerning Clods of Dust.   
  
Legolas ran back up to his chambers, pleased that he had not got punished for shooting Fing. He swung open the door, prepared to jump into his huge bed. But the bed was not where it should have been. Instead it had been pushed to the far wall. In the middle of the space where the bed should have been kneeled Amyndra, a scrub bucket beside her.  
  
"What are you doing?" Legolas screeched at her. She looked up, surprised.   
  
"Cleaning, your highness. We discussed this before." Legolas was speechless as he gazed at the place where his bed had once sat; the cold stone floor had been swept; any sign of the dust bunnies long since destroyed by the soapy water. Tears began to well up in the young Prince's eyes.  
  
"B-b-but...they were my *friends*!" He cried. Amyndra was instantly on her feet and at his side.  
  
"Oh, dear me. Come on now, your highness, they were only clods of dust."  
  
"They were DUST BUNNIES and they were my FRIENDS!" he yelled back at her, "What about the spidies? Did you whack them with the broom?"   
  
"Heavens no." She answered. He sniffed and looked up at her hopefully.  
  
"Then they're still alive?"  
  
"Well, no. No, they're not your highness. But..." she attempted to put her arms around him, comfort him but he pulled away violently.  
  
"Stop calling me that! My name is Legolas!"   
  
"Very well, Legolas. Please, calm down. I didn't realise..."  
  
"You did to realise! You knew perfectly well. And...oh!" the little boy's blue eyes had caught sight of something under the corner of his bed. Running over he picked up a large dust bunny and hugged it to him tightly.  
  
"Amaran!" He yelled gleefully. Amyndra sighed.  
  
"There, you see? Not all of them are gone." She tried. Legolas just shot her a nasty look.   
  
"Put my bed back. You're ruining Amaran's home."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Put my bed back." He repeated slowly. Amyndra sighed again and put her rag back in the bucket.   
  
"I'm going to set you right here," Legolas was saying to the dust clod in his hand, "where no one can hurt you." He placed his 'friend' in the drawer of his bedside table. He shot another look at Amyndra before heading out the door.  
  
"Your high- Legolas, where are you going?"   
  
"To the barn to see Fing."   
  
"Don't you think you have done enough damage to that poor horse?" Legolas only smiled in reply and left the room.  
  
"That boy will be the death of me." Amyndra thought as she began to continue scrubbing the floor.  
  
Disclaimer:   
  
~ I do not own Legolas or Thranduil or any other characters of The Lord of the Rings that I decide to put in this story. I'm just using them for my own twisted pleasure.  
  
I *do* own the dust bunnies: Glithiel, Sebrimir, Elrildur, Rioclya, and Amaran, the spidies, the nursemaid Amyndra, and Hilmar.   
  
~ I also am the owner of Delaril and that stable boy, if I ever decide to give him a name.   
  
~ And I have just added that poor little horse who still has an arrow stuck in his bum to my list of assets that shall be passed on to whoever the bloody wants them after I'm gone. Also the poor, poor imbecile who's job it was to teach our young Legolas how to shoot! Though neither of them have names just now.  
  
~ No new assets, but that horse did finally get a name: Fing!  
  
A/N: Uh-oh... Amyndra's been a bad girl. :) Now what in Middle-Earth could Legolas want out in the horse barn? With Fing? Come back tomorrow to find out!! (I already have the next chapter written, but I someone's beta reading it tonight so y'all are going to have to wait!) 


	5. Concerning Repairs

Ip Vi: Concerning Repairs  
  
"That Amyndra...I thought she said she would find a place for them to live. And do it tomorrow! But no! I get called down to see Ada and she kills them all..." Legolas mumbled as he made his way through the courtyard toward the stables. The various Elves and Men that he passed greeted him with calls of "good afternoon your highness." Legolas answered them respectively and for once refrained from demanding that they call him by name. He was only 37 years old and already he was tired of the strict formalities that many insisted upon using. He arrived at the horse barns and silently entered through the back, unseen. He silently made his way to the end of the darkened barn where Fing was being kept. At the sight of the little boy the horse's eyes flashed with fear and it moved back to the far corner of its stall.  
  
"Shhh, Fing. I won't hurt you." The little boy answered, pulling a carrot out of his bag and offering it to the horse. The horse did not budge. In a soft voice Legolas began to sing. The horse's eyes drooped and slowly it made its way toward the young Prince.  
  
"There you are. Good boy." Legolas said, handing the horse the desired treat and stroking its nose. The horse leaned into his touch, perfectly calm. Legolas continued to sing as he crawled into the stall and pulled the rest of the items from his bag. He nimbly climbed atop of Fing and, sitting backwards laid out his tools.   
  
"Your highness! What are you doing?" A voice outside the stall called. Legolas sighed and turned to look at Mebririon who was in charge of the stables.   
  
"Fixing Fing."  
  
"Fixing him? How the Valar do you think you can fix him?" Mebririon asked, leaning upon the rail. With a large smile Legolas help up his tools, pleased with himself. Mebririon began to laugh.   
  
"What do you plan on doing with those?" he asked. Now Legolas frowned. *If Mebririon really is this dense perhaps he should not be in charge of the horses, * Legolas realised.   
  
"It's really quite simple; I just need to patch the hole that I put in his bum...I mean flanks."   
  
"And you think those tools will help you?"   
  
"Of course. I just place this peace of leather over the hole my arrow caused," Legolas explained as he did so, "then I just need to fasten it down."  
  
"And what do you plan to fasten it down with?" Mebririon asked, amused.  
  
"Paste, of course. It is not as if I could hammer it into him." Legolas answered as if any imbecile should know such a thing. Mebririon began to laugh again.  
  
"Come down from there, your highness. Your paste and leather will not work."  
  
"Then perhaps I should use a needle and thread?" Legolas suggested remembering the time that he had watched Mebririon sew up a horse's wound.   
  
"The horse's would shall heal on its own."  
  
"But he has a big hole in his bu-flanks."  
  
"Yes he does, courtesy of your poor shooting skills. But it will heal in time. As long as no one messes with it." Mebririon answered pointedly. Legolas bowed his head. He had messed up again.  
  
"Come now, your highness. Perhaps if you go into the kitchen Radriewen will give you something to eat before dinner." Mebririon held out his arms and the little Prince allowed himself to be picked up and placed on the ground.  
  
"It is Legolas."   
  
"What?"  
  
"Legolas. Call me Legolas."  
  
"Very well, Legolas. Let us go see what Radriewen has been cooking."   
  
Disclaimer:   
  
~ I do not own Legolas or Thranduil or any other characters of The Lord of the Rings that I decide to put in this story. I'm just using them for my own twisted pleasure.  
  
I *do* own the dust bunnies: Glithiel, Sebrimir, Elrildur, Rioclya, and Amaran, the spidies, the nursemaid Amyndra, and Hilmar.   
  
~ I also am the owner of Delaril and that stable boy, if I ever decide to give him a name.   
  
~ And I have just added that poor little horse who still has an arrow stuck in his bum to my list of assets that shall be passed on to whoever the bloody wants them after I'm gone. Also the poor, poor imbecile who's job it was to teach our young Legolas how to shoot! Though neither of them have names just now.  
  
~ No new assets, but that horse did finally get a name: Fing!  
  
~ Hehe; I've gotten two new Elves to torture now; Radriewen and Mebririon.   
  
A/N: Wow, this thing is a lot of fun to write. I'm debating whether or not to bring Arwen and the twins into it. And maybe Aragorn. He wouldn't be born yet though, would he? Ah, I'll think about it. Meanwhile Legolas and Mebririon will be in the kitchen. Where they can't get into any trouble. Right? :) 


	6. Concerning Dead Chickens

Ip Min: Concerning Dead Chickens  
  
"Your highness! How good to see you. What can I do for you?" Radriewen exclaimed upon Legolas's entrance. The young prince sighed but didn't correct her. Radriewen wasn't an Elf; she was human and a very old one at that. She was short and round with greying hair that she fought to pull up into a bun. By noon, the bun was a small bump on the top of her head, the stray strands having fallen to become wisps around her face. Her face was wrinkled and rough and reminded Legolas of a tree's bark, but her eyes were still young and gleamed like jewels between the creases of her face.   
  
"We came to see what it is that you are cooking,"  
  
"-And to snatch a little sample!" finished Mebririon, entering the kitchen behind the Prince. Radriewen smiled and looked around her for a suitable snack.  
  
"Dinner will be served in an hour. Are you sure the King would want you to eat?" she asked.   
  
"Well, then can I help you make dinner? I am sure that I could cook." Legolas asked, his blue eyes large. Radriewen hesitated, then laughed and handed him an apron.  
  
"Very well, your highness. You shall help me fix your father's supper." The boy jumped with joy and tied the apron around his waist and perched upon a table while Mebririon snatched an apple and sat back to watch.   
  
"Come, help me make the dumplings."  
  
"Dumplings? What are we having?" Legolas questioned.  
  
"Chicken soup. Here, now pour four cups of flour into this bowl here," Radriewen instructed, handing the boy a bag of flour and a metal cup. The little boy stuck his arm half into the bag. His arm emerged a white colour; the metal cup heaped full of the flour. Using a flat edged knife, the little boy levelled off the cup, spilling the excess all over the floor. Two more cups went into the bowl the same way, without accident. But when Legolas put his arm deep into the bag for the final cup, he found that the bag was almost empty. That was when the young prince noticed the hole in the corner of the bag. He looked up to find Radriewen to help, but her back was turned away from him as she worked on their dessert. Next Legolas looked to Mebririon for help, but the stable boy was studying another cook, female, off in the distance who was peeling potatoes. Jumping off the table, Legolas decided that he could clean it up all on his own. As he pushed himself off the table, however, his flour-covered arm hit the small tin of water that was sitting near him to be added to the flour next. The water spilled over the table and dripped into the pile of flour on the floor. Now, as everyone in middle earth already knows, water and flour combined can make a sort of paste. It was this paste that Legolas fell, face first, into. The little boy pushed himself to his feet, and looking out of flour-crusted eyes, spotted a blue and green towel on another table near a wooden cage that housed the live chicken that would become their dinner. Legolas took a tentative step, careful not to slip on the paste. Another step, and then another got him to the table. Happy at his success, he grabbed the towel and turned quickly. His feet, with the paste on them, slid out from under him. The boy windmilled his arms, fighting for balance but naught could save him. The boy fell upon his bum, knocking his pretty blond head against the table as he went. The table jumped with the impact, and the wooden crate that held the chicken fell off the corner of the table with a loud crash and a painful squawk. The crate, which had obviously been shoddily made, swung upon and the chicken, now panicked, flapped and squawked as she fought her way free of her imprisonment. Hearing the commotion, Radriewen turned to find the chicken running like crazy, flapping her wings franticly and succeeding to gain a half-meter of flight. Legolas was crawling around on all fours, covered in the floury paste, trying to catch the renegade foul. Tables were being knocked and bowls of food were being strewn across the floor. Legolas, making a grab for the chicken, fell face first into a basket of oats, spilling them across the floor. Mebririon, however, was still tantalised by the lovely Elven maiden in the next room who was peeling potatoes. Radriewen began to chase the chicken, using her long billowed skirts to herd it toward a corner. But a stressed out chicken is not easy to herd. Legolas lunged toward the foul again, almost grabbing its leg. The chicken squawked loudly and flapped her wings, taking to the air. The chicken gained more and more air as she franticly flapped for her life until she came to rest on Mebririon's head with a triumphant squawk. *That* got his attention. As did Legolas who jumped upon a stool before lunging at the chicken, successfully grabbing a hold of its right leg. But it wasn't over. The chicken began to flail its wings, beating the air in a useless attempt to fly. Legolas, who was not very much bigger than the crazed bird, fought to keep her in his control. He staggered around the kitchen, fighting to get the chicken toward another crate, knocking over bottles of milk and baskets of carrots. Mebririon chased after the two, trying to grab the chicken from Legolas. In one, desperate act, the little Elf swung his arms to his left, trying to counteract the chicken's desire to go to the right. Mebririon yelled a word of caution, but it was too late. Legolas had miscalculated the weight of the bird, the momentum of his arm, and the location of the nearby stone wall. The chicken's head hit that wall with a dull thud and suddenly, all was quiet. Legolas stood there, covered in a flour paste with oats stuck to him, water and milk dripping from his hair around the numerous chicken feathers that stuck into his braids. In his arms he held the chicken, now limp and lifeless. Blood flowed from the little boy's knuckles where they scraped against the same stone wall that had brought the chicken to its death. A bruise was forming on his cheek, the knees of his leggings were ripped and a small trickle of blood flowed from the left one. The cuts stung, as they had flour and water and milk and everything else that was on the floor now embedded in them. But Legolas did not notice. His eyes were locked upon the lifeless chicken.   
  
"Legolas-" Mebririon started, but Legolas did not answer. Radriewen went to his side and wrapped her arms around him. Still the young boy did not respond. The adults watched him for a long time, watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Listened as his now pale lips whispered a prayer. Watched as Legolas turned and walked silently out of the room, the dead chicken sill in his arms.   
  
A/N: Awww. What do you guys think he'll do with the chicken? I promise the next chapter will be a little happier...the end of this one was kind of sad, huh? Anyway, I apologize for the wait for this chapter. My classes have just started again and I was busy with those. But, the good news is this chapter was longer than the others! So, worth the wait? The next chapter should be up sooner, maybe even today or tomorrow depending on how boring my classes end up being. So everyone knows, I am not a baker. I can cook (kind of) but I couldn't make a batch of cookies to save my life. So, if any of these seems unaccurate, well, I don't really care, but hey. It *is* possible to make paste with water and flour, however. And I think you add egg whites too...I can't remember. Doesn't realy matter, though, that's why we have Elmer's nowadays! Please R&R, it's what keeps me going. And thanks to all of you who have been giving me so much support: elf girl, Lady Wolf Moon, and Nevermore!  
  
(Wow, the A/N is longer than half my chapters!)  
  
Disclaimer:   
  
~ I do not own Legolas or Thranduil or any other characters of The Lord of the Rings that I decide to put in this story. I'm just using them for my own twisted pleasure.  
  
I *do* own the dust bunnies: Glithiel, Sebrimir, Elrildur, Rioclya, and Amaran, the spidies, the nursemaid Amyndra, and Hilmar.   
  
~ I also am the owner of Delaril and that stable boy, if I ever decide to give him a name.   
  
~ And I have just added that poor little horse who still has an arrow stuck in his bum to my list of assets that shall be passed on to whoever the bloody wants them after I'm gone. Also the poor, poor imbecile who's job it was to teach our young Legolas how to shoot! Though neither of them have names just now.  
  
~ No new assets, but that horse did finally get a name: Fing!  
  
~ Hehe; I've gotten two new Elves to torture now; Radriewen and Mebririon.  
  
~Okay; now I own the poor chicken that was tortured and put in a cage and chased around the kitchen only to die a quick death of a concussion. Poor thing. Chicken dumpling soup really is good, though! 


End file.
